The Last Five Years
by amirmitchell
Summary: In which Maya recalls the rise of her relationship while Lucas describes the fall / au of the musical
1. ACT I

**_i know that the show isn't split into two acts but this is so oh well anyways hmu on tumblr and cry over tlfy with me because its my favorite fucking show_**

* * *

 ** _Still Hurting_**

She sits at the desk, her breath caught in her lungs as she stares at the letter sitting in front of her.

She really doesn't know why she feels so numb. She knew this was coming- who didn't?

They hadn't been themselves for a while, years even. After his second book deal, after the countless auctions she failed to sell a piece in, after the first, second, third affair he denied existed. She refused to be on his arm every night, he refused to not have a trophy to show off at every banquet in his honor. They weren't working, and so he decided that it was up to him that she wasn't worth trying with anymore.

She wonders absentmindedly where she is going to go as she rises from her seat, the photos of them scattered throughout the dull apartment staring her down as she slips off her rings, her watch, her bracelet. She has no bank account, an apartment she can't afford, no job to speak of after he'd convinced her to quit. She almost wants to smile at the shine her jewelry still has, like it's new and their love isn't dead.

It's her fault. It's always her fault. She didn't go to enough parties, she always distracted him while he was trying to finish the next chapter of the book that he'd publish before fucking his boss in a celebratory fashion; she is the problem. Never Lucas, it would _never_ be Lucas because Lucas decided on his own that Maya singlehandedly destroyed their romance, and he left her.

He really fucking left.

 ** _Shiksa Goddess_**

"I'm breaking my mother's heart," he laughs into her ear, hiking her legs up around his waist. "I can hear it splintering and cracking apart all the way in Texas."

Maya giggles as he presses sloppy kisses to her collar bone. "Lucas!" she shrieks, his hand sliding up her dress before he tosses her onto her bed.

"I'm breaking my mother's heart," he repeats, a grin spreading so wide that she's afraid his face will tear in two. " _An artist!_ she'd tell me, _An artist, Lucas?"_ He impersonates his mother with a thick southern accent, " _She could have two heads or an extra limb as long as she has some type of doctorate- but no! You bring me home an artist!"_ He watches her dress fly across the room while yanking his shirt above his head. "You could have fourteen kids, and she wouldn't care. You could ride a Harley as long as you know how to identify a cardiovascular disease."

She kicks off her shoes before he climbs to the bed, flopping to his back and tugging her on top of him. "You could shave your head or have nothing but tattoos covering your entire face, but I tell her that you don't have a college degree and we're toast."

She hungrily kisses him, her fingers threading into his hair while her knees find either side of his waist to straddle his lap.

"I've dated pediatricians, obstetricians, ophthalmologists, orthopedic surgeons- fuck, she set me up with a dental assistant once! She just wants one doctor in the family, she cries to me when I escort them out, just _one_."

He forms a giddy chuckle, flipping them over with a quick tug on her waist before lowering his face to hers so he can peck her nose cheekily. "And I'm breaking her fucking heart, but staring into your eyes I just know that I could fall in love with somebody like you."

 ** _See I'm Smiling_**

Honestly, she's surprised he even showed up. After two summers alone in a small community in Ohio, she'd forgotten what it was like to see him walking into the grounds for her annual showcase.

"I'm glad you could make it," she grins from beside him, their legs swinging off the pier when he flashes his own smile. Neither of them reach the couple's eyes, but it's alright. (She hopes it's alright.)

"I told you not to give up on me just yet." His hand slides over to hers before he nods her head, signaling for them to stand.

"I know we have some things to work through." Maya squeezes his palm for reassurance. "But you made it here, and that's what matters, right? Sure, we'll have to try a little harder.. and maybe talk a little more. But you made it here and we're together in Ohio, so who knows where else we'll go."

They can be okay, she thinks. They can make it through this. Maybe they could see another therapist or there could be another compromise or something because he's in Ohio right beside her and he's holding her hand and she's smiling and he's laughing and everything is coming together- they have to make it through.

"I stole this sweater from the theater department," she snickers, her arms flying out to her sides when they rise from their seat. "It makes me look like your Aunt Ruth on Thanksgiving."

He chuckles at her joke.

"See, you're laughing and I'm smiling," she assures, reaching for his hand again with a timid stare. "I think we're gonna be alright."

He nods sweetly, and she smiles genuinely this time. "I can't wait to show you around. You can meet all my students and there's a dinner tomorrow and you can sit next to me-"

"Actually, honey," Lucas sighs, "I can't stay the weekend. I have this party tomorrow. It's a publicity thing, I couldn't get out of it. I'm so sorry."

Her breath catches in her throat, the dimples in her rosy cheeks faltering. "Oh." She takes a shaky breath. "I didn't know you had to go so soon. I thought we had a little more time." He frowns, her hand cupping his cheek as soon as it forms. "It's alright, though. I mean, it's whatever. If you have to then you have to. It's whatever 'cause you have to. We'll have tonight."

He winces at her final word, causing her to tug her bottom lip between her teeth. She knows what's coming next. She always does, his ridiculous excuses making her want to rip her hair out.

"And I tried to get a flight for tomorrow, but the only ones that they had were for tonight."

A bitter laugh escapes her as she stomps past him. "Okay, you know what makes me crazy? You know what makes me nuts? That you could stand here, we could be _together- finally together-_ and then you're left with the choice between me and them and- Surprise! Surprise! Guess who you choose!"

"It's not a choice, Maya," he counters.

"It is a choice, Lucas! It's an easy choice! You do not need to go to another party with the same twenty people you see every single day! You could stay with your _wife_ on her _fucking birthday_ but you can't- no you can't even see my show."

"Baby…"

"You can't spend a day without your little girlfriends or be in a place that's not about you! Oh, _you_! And nothing but _you_. Marvelous, novelist _you._ Oh isn't he wonderful? Just twenty-eight! The _savior_ of writing! Miles and piles of _you_. Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You're being crazy, Maya!" he shouts, his fists clenching at her shrill accusations.

"I am _not_ being crazy- do you think that I'm joking?" Tears form in her eyes as she gasps for breath. Her cheeks are flushed from her angry ranting and she's not even sure she wants to look up at his figure, watching him stay stoic on the dock as she tries not to sob.

"You know, I'll never get it," she starts, wiping at her cheeks, "God, I'll never understand how you could just do this. You're just _standing there_ and you see I'm _crying_ … and you don't do anything at all."

 ** _Moving Too Fast_**

"Yes! I am twenty-three. I- what?" Lucas snorts, his heart beating right out of his chest. "You read my manuscript? That's.. Wow."

He makes a mental note to thank the fuck out of Professor Adler as soon as he gets to his apartment.

"Yes, and we're very impressed, Mr. Friar. There's word that you're working on a new novel? Perhaps we could see the first chapter of that?"

"Oh, right! Of course, yes, of course. Did you want me to bring that to you by hand?" He eagerly asks, shoving his things as quickly as he can into his satchel.

"No, Mr. Friar, I'm sure that email will be just fine."

"Oh- right. Yeah. Email. And what is your email, Ms. Blair?"

"Please, call me Linda."

He chokes on his spit at her response. "Linda? Like we're friends? Just Linda? Okay, Linda. I'll um, I'll get that to you."

"I'll be in touch, Mr. Friar, please try to stay breathing until then."

He laughs a little too hard, nodding even though she can't see when they say their goodbyes and he dials Maya's number.

"Maya, I've thought about what you said," he beams, struggling to climb on top of his bike, "Let's move in together."

"What? Lucas, yesterday you were-"

"I'll explain later! Just find an apartment."

He can't believe it. It feels like the world is swirling beneath his feet, but he's not tripping. He's not stumbling. He's _soaring_ \- above doubts, above loneliness, above debt.

Within a month, they're opening the door to their new home, his check from the starting chapter of his novel getting handed to the landlord for their first month of rent, and he's so happy.

He's in love and he's an author and he's so fucking _happy_.

 ** _A Part of That_**

It's sort of surreal, she thinks; his mind, his process, his success.

She sits between a group of women, other wives, being asked what it's like to be connected to such a thriving man.

"It's crazy, y'know?" She explains, "I kind of feel like we're superheroes. By day, Maya and Lucas- typical domestic couple planning errands and watching movies on the couch while dinner cooks- and then, at night, we're at extravagant parties. We're dressed to the nines and he's being tugged every which way to snap a picture or to talk to this publisher."

"Do you feel like you're living in his shadow?"

Maya stumbles at the inquiry, her eyebrows knotting together as a frown forms on her lips. "Well, I mean- sure, he walks in front of me instead of beside me, but I let him. I take his cue. It's more his scene than mine."

"But doesn't that make you feel like less of a partner?" She tries to remember the name of the woman questioning her pride behind her husband. "What makes it worth being nothing more than a trophy to him?"

"I'm not," Maya persists, her eyes searching for Lucas in the crowd. Her eyes find his and immediately her hard expression softens. "We're partners," she assures, the corner of her lips tugging up. "There's a moment where he's just sitting, staring out the window, barely even breathing; and then he'll smile. His eyes light up and deep within the ground without a sound, the moment comes to life." She lets out a sigh, his laugh from across the room pumping the blood through her heart. "He smiles, his eyes light up, and how could I complain? He smiles, and where else can I go? He invents a world that's passing by, and I'm a part of that."

She tries to catch his attention, but his eyes skim pass her this time instead of locking her gaze. "I'm a part of that."

Isn't she?

 ** _The Schmuel Song_**

Maya slumps through the door, _another_ auction with absolutely no portraits sold down the drain had led her into picking up a waitressing job that she couldn't stand. She slumps off her bag and shoes, moping to the couch to lay limp in her misery.

"Rough night?" Lucas smirks, taking a seat near her feet and grabbing one to rub as she whines. "I hate it there. I do, I absolutely hate it," she pouts, scrunching her nose when he presses a his lips from her calf to the inside corner of her knee. "Oh no, Huckleberry. Let me wallow in my self pity and failing career."

"But I have a _story_ ," he grins, prompting her to sit up. "You just need to be upright for like five minutes to listen. That's it." She shakes her head, sinking lower into their couch when he stands.

"It's a good one," he promises, tugging out her canvas and set of oil paints, a brush tucked between his fingertips as if he were about to paint.

"Why does my stuff have to be dragged into this?"

"A _Christmas_ story. I call it _The Story of Schmuel, Painter of Klimovich."_

She lets out a deep breath through her nose. "If I had known dating an author came with this many stories, I wouldn't have done it."

Lucas ignores her, humming along to a tune he had created to this exuberant tale. "Schmuel would work 'til half-past ten at his crafters' shop in Klimovich. Get up at dawn and start again with the strokes and flicks of his wrists. Forty-one years had come and gone at his crafters' shop in Klimovich, watching the winters soldier on, there was one thing Schmuel missed."

She tries to fight a smile as he hunches over, a thick accent that reminds her of coating his words.  
"" _If I only had time_ ," old Schmuel said,  
" _I would paint the scene that's in my head,  
A man on fire, the mad desire of girls from here to Minsk, but I have no more hours left to go_."  
Then the clock upon the wall began to glow…"

Lucas tugs out an umbrella, shaking it towards a decorative plate on their mantle.

"And the clock said:  
" _Na na na na, na na na! Oh Schmuel, you'll get to be happy_!  
(It's a magic clock!)  
 _Na na na na, na na na! I give you unlimited time!_  
 _Na na na na, na na na! So Schmuel, go Paint and be happy_!"

But Schmuel said, _"_ _No, no, it's not my lot- I've gotta make do with the time I've got."_ "

He puckers out his bottom lip, trying to seem grumpy as Maya snickers, "You're such a dork."

"Schmuel was done at half-past ten and he said, " _Good night, old Klimovich._ " Put on his coat to go, but then the clock cried, " _Wait! Not yet_! _Even though you're not wise or rich, you're the finest man in Klimovich! Listen up, Schmuel-Make one line and you'll see what you can get!_ "

But Schmuel said, " _Clock, it's much too late, I'm at peace with life, I accept my fate..."_

But the clock said, " _Schmuel! One stroke and you will unlock the dreams you've lost!_ "

So Schmuel, with reluctance, took his hand, a green coated brush to begin with land: " _I should take out my teeth and go bed. I'm sitting here with talking clocks instead_!"

And the clock said:  
" _Na na na na, na na na! Oh Schmuel, you'll get to be happy! Na na na na, na na na! I give you unlimited time! Na na na na, na na na! Just do it and you can be happy!_ "

Lucas continues to belt out his fable as he tugs a reluctant Maya up, twirling her around the tiny space left with her supplies pulled out. Babbling on and on about an old man with a dream to paint while Maya half heartedly tries to keep up with his dance moves.

"Plenty have hoped and dreamed and prayed,but they can't get out of Klimovich. If Schmuel had been a cute goyishe maid, he'd've looked a lot like you."

"Wait- I'm Schmuel in this story?!"

"Maybe it's just that you're afraid to go out onto a limb...ovich. (Oof.) Maybe your heart's completely swayed, but your head can't follow through."

Maya purses her lips, his words causing a sick feeling to sink in her stomach. Is he rubbing in her defeat?

"But shouldn't I want the world to see the brilliant girl who inspires me? Don't you think that now's a good time to be the ambitious freak you are?

Say goodbye to wiping ashtrays at the bar!

Say hello to Maya Hart, the savior of art!

'Cause I say:  
Na na na na, na na na! Maya _,_ you get to be happy!  
Na na na na, na na na! I give you unlimited time!  
Na na na na na na na! Stop temping and go and be happy!  
Here's a handful of brushes and a new set of paints, a pad of blank paper- you can fill ev'ry page-  
Take a breath…

Take a step…

Take a chance…"

She watches as he tugs a small box out, poorly wrapped but cute in effort. She hesitantly takes it, her eyes lighting up at the gorgeous watch she pulls from crumpled tissue paper.

" _Take your time_."

She kisses him because she loves him and she adores him and she inspires him and she kisses him just because she can because he's _hers_ and no one else's. His arms wind around her, holding her close as he mumbles his final lyrics of his song into her hair.

"Have I mentioned today how lucky I am to be in love with you?"

 ** _A Summer in Ohio_**

She loves it here, she really does- or that's what she tells herself to make it through her fucking summer.

She hates having to come back every year, teaching teenagers at a summer camp as the only outlet for her pent up dreams. The only place she ever really makes any sales is the showcase at the end of her three months, anyways- at least she's getting paid.

Sure, she's rooming with a former stripper and her snake, Wayne, and she wants to throw herself off a cliff thinking of the same projects that she'll have to repeatedly explain to the same kids she did last year, but at least she's getting paid.

"I miss you," she sighs into the microphone of her headphones to Lucas over Skype. "I saw your book at a Target in Kentucky under a sign that said new and recommended. I stole a look at your picture on the inside and sleeve and then I couldn't breathe. Richard, who I was with, got uncharacteristically quiet as I picked it up mumbled under his breath how I didn't _have to buy it, all things considered_. I scoffed and handed my VISA over because he wants me but he won't have me."

He visits her only two weeks later, striding right up to her as she flashes her ring to a group of giggling girls on pier. "Mrs. Lucas Friar," he can hear her bragging before she sees him, dropping all conversations and running into his arms.

" _That's me."_

 ** _The Next Ten Minutes_**

His fingers lace with hers as they stroll through Central Park, his eyes secured on the wind making her hair flutter.

"Have you been to the museum?" He ask. She shakes her head, following the pattern of the leaves on the ground as he leads her to a small gazebo. "We should go visit the dinosaurs."

"Anything you want, Sundance," she promises, squeezing his hand before taking a seat on the small bench beneath the wooden roof.

"Maya." His heart rate speeds when he plants himself beside her. "W-will you share your life with me for the next ten minutes?"

She eyes him curiously, his hands fumbling to leave hers and search his pockets. "For the next ten minutes? We can handle that. We can watch the waves, we could watch the sky, or just sit and wait as the time ticks by- and if we make it 'til then, could I ask you again for another ten?"

He lowers to his knee, a small velvet box being opened before her eyes as she lets out a tiny gasp.

"And if in turn you agree to the next ten minutes, and the next ten minutes until morning comes, then just holding you might compel me to ask for more."

Maya can't feel the air in her lungs or see anything besides the green in his eyes, and her face remains blank as he stares at her.

"There are so many lives I want to share with you. So please, would you give me the next ten minutes? For the next ten lifetimes? For a million summers?"


	2. ACT II

**_i changed my url on tumblr to missysbradford just a psa i love her_**

* * *

 ** _The Next Ten Minutes_**

"I am not always on time," Maya starts, her eyes locked on the ground in front of them. He shifts at her uneasy tone. "Please don't expect that of me. If you just wait, it's true- I'll be late, but I'll get there eventually." She purses her lips, soon forming a pout as she tries to explain her thoughts. "I can't control that I am," she shrugs helplessly, "It's just sort of how it goes. But anything other than being exactly on time, I can do."

Maya stares at the ring, trying to ignore the sight of Lucas's adam's apple bobbing when he gulps. "I don't know why people run. I don't know why things fall through. I don't know how anyone makes it in life without having somebody like you- and I could protect and preserve. I could say no and goodbye. But, Lucas…"

She cups his cheek, his anxious frown easing when she smiles to him fully. "Tell me why I want to be your wife." He bursts into a grin, his arms finding her waist to pick her up and twirl her.

"I want to have your child." He laughs wholeheartedly, bending down to kiss from her neck to her stomach as she giggles.

"I want to die knowing I had a full life in your arms- yes, that I can do 'til the world explodes and there's no one left that's ever known us apart." They finally share a kiss, a mumbled, "I can do that with you." exchanged before she slips the ring on her finger.

And exactly ten months later, overlooking the garden of Maya's favorite park under a beautifully decorated gazebo, they exchange their vows with radiant eyes.

"There are so many dreams I will see with you," Lucas promises, his hands interlocked with hers as they stand before their friends and family.

"There are so many years I will be with you," she blushes back.

"I will never be complete."

"I will never be alive."

"I will never change the world until.. _I do."_

A tear slips down her cheek before she sniffles slightly, smacking his chest for making her so emotional. " _I do."_

 ** _A Miracle Would Happen/ When You Come Home To Me_**

"It's awful," Lucas groans to Zay, his hands slammed against his face trying to avoid every female at the bar they're at. "You know every girl you've ever wanted to sleep with? Well, get married, Zay. They _jump_ at you."

His friend chuckles, rolling his eyes before he sips his drink.

"And it's _worse_ for me because I'm an author. I'm at these parties, the star of these parties, and the longest legs with the shortest dress bursts up with a smirk I could die for, asking if I can read her manuscript or go to coffee- and I'm showing her my left hand, I'm only speaking with my left hand! And here comes Maya because she knows, she _always_ knows, and I'm trying to convince her I wasn't encouraging it, even though I was, and then I don't want to seem whipped in front of legs even though it doesn't matter what she thinks! I can't fuck her anyways!" He gulps down his whisky, ignoring the pat on his back and the comfort he's being offered.

"Man, in a perfect world, a miracle would happen and it'd be me and Maya and no one else at all. In a perfect world, these girls would look like mutated rats and I'd ignore their every word- but it's fine. It is. I love her, you know I love her. I'm happy! It's just…" His eyes trail the low cut of a woman's dress as she saunters past them towards the restrooms, "It's hard!"

"What's hard?" Zay asks, wondering why Lucas even got married in the first place.

"To resist temptation."

.

Maya doesn't like when he's cooped up, writing a novel she'll read when he's fast asleep, but she gets it- she does- and so she understands why he forgets to send her a good luck text before she goes into a meeting with yet another director of a museum that she wants to have a piece in.

It goes well, though, even without his text, and she calls him to tell him that eagerly as she steps out of the building. "Yeah! No, it went _amazing_ , Lucas, I think that maybe this is it! No more Ohio! Maybe your good luck texts were jinxing me, Huckleberry," she chuckles, inviting him to a celebratory lunch for her exciting day.

"I'll be there soon, Maya," he promises from the other line. "I'll finish up this chapter and be out the door!" He groans when his phone makes a beeping noise in his ear. "If my fucking boss quits calling, I'll be there as quick as I can. Don't give up on me yet."

He's not, but that's okay because she doesn't make it in anyways. They're looking for pieces with more warmth, and apparently hers just weren't that. So she ends up back in Ohio, another summer that Lucas thankfully has enough free time to spend some of with her. She stares at the water, legs swinging as she awaits his arrival.

From miles and miles away, he shuffles with the draft of his fourteenth chapter, running it into the building of his boss, Vanessa, and taking out his phone to let Maya know he will be on the road as quick as a horse in a derby.

And he wants to be- he swears that he does- but he fumbles when he makes it to the hallway leading to Vanessa's office. He can see her slipping on her heels, his eyes lingering up her legs to her tight pencil skirt. He can feel his hands clamming up and the chapter being crumpled in his palm at the sight.

He hates it because in a perfect world, it'd be him and Maya riding life together. They would live out their plans and he would not be itching to run his hands along Vanessa's spine with his lips on every each of her skin. It's just so hard- it's so damn hard to fucking resist it.

With a heavy sigh, he types a quick text and wearily moves forward.

 _I'll be there soon, Maya xx_

He hates that they don't live in a perfect world.

 ** _Climbing Uphill_**

She sits in Central Park, her sketchpad propped onto her knees as she absentmindedly scribbles patterns across the blank sheet. She has nothing to do, nowhere to go. She wonders if her mom would want to grab lunch, even though she's not particularly looking for lunch with her mother. Lucas is just working and he needed absolute silence that she just couldn't provide, that she never provides.

She wonders what he'll be like when they have kids. Will they be the annoying, distracting burden she is nowadays? Will he send them off with nowhere to go and nothing to draw and nothing to fucking do because no fucking gallery will work with her and she really wishes she would've picked a different career.

Fuck, it'd be easier to be an actress at this point.

She's climbing uphill, and she hates it- just climbing uphill. Competing with college students granted awards for paintings half as good as her own.

She doesn't get it. She's a good person. She's a decent artist. Why can't she just catch a break?

It's that she sucks, isn't it? She sucks, she sucks, she sucks.

But she refuses the life she would be left to if she were to drop her dreams. She will not be the girl who is sitting at home with the baby and puppy and daytime talk shows filling her DVR. She goes to his readings and his signings and his parties and she supports him, but she doesn't need to rely on him. She won't rely on him.

She will not be the girl who is asked what it's like trotting along in the shadows of the genius. She's just climbing uphill.

 ** _If I Didn't Believe in You_**

"I just don't see why I have to fucking go!" Maya shrieks, her hands flying in the air, "They won't notice if I'm not there."

"You have to go because you're my wife, Maya! They would notice because I would notice."

"You wouldn't notice! You walk in and within twenty seconds you're tugged away and I'm hiding in a corner trying to avoid the same five fucking questions I get asked about your successful life!"

He lets out a sharp exhale, trying to calm down before continuing because he's sick of fighting. He's sick of this madness. He knows why she's upset, and it's not his party. It's that she didn't make it into another gallery and she didn't make any money in the one she was in months ago and it's that he's moving forward and she's stopped.

"Maya, there are people there and they've published my book and they're throwing this party for me. And I hear you, I do, but… is this really about the party? Or are you just upset you're going back to Ohio?"

He watches her tense up, trying to move closer and hold her but she avoids his touch to settle on the bed.

"Maya… Please. Baby, please just put on your dress and come with."

"I'm not going to play your little trophy wife tonight," she snaps through gritted teeth.

"Goddamn it, Maya!" He can't help his fist slamming down and rattling their dresser. "Why can't you just listen to me? Why is it that every time I do what I swore I would always do, I feel like I'm put on trial?! I'm not doing anything wrong, Maya. I call you after your appointments, I visit you in Ohio, I fucking support you- so why can't you support me? Why do I have to drown so that you feel comfortable?" He can see her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. "If I didn't believe in you, Maya, we wouldn't be having this fight. I would've left and ignored it and been out the door, but I do. So why can't you believe in me? This isn't about the stupid party. This is about you going back to Ohio where you hate, and I get that you're upset, but why can't you just support me? Why can't you do this for me? I've done nothing but support you this entire time and it never took much convincing to make me believe in you. I wouldn't have married you if I didn't have faith in you."

Her fists clench at her sides, and he can't help the anger rising in his voice.

"Don't we get to be happy? Don't we get to enjoy this life together at all? If I'm cheering on your side, Maya, why can't you cheer on mine? You already know that I know you'll be fine, but stop making me wait to be happy with you until you are! I'm not going to lose because you can't fucking win."

She stands up, and he hopes that she's moving to get ready, to get dressed. "If I hadn't believed in you this whole time, I wouldn't have loved you, Maya. Why can't you just do this for me?"

She's slammed the door and locked herself into the bathroom before he can even ask what she's doing and it's clear he's going to attend the party alone.

 ** _I Can Do Better Than That_**

He's finally meeting her parents, and it makes her want to scream inside because he's going to see where she's from. He's going to see her origins and see how far she has made it and she knows, deep inside, that this is a good thing. He's such a good thing.

"My best friend, Riley, got knocked up at the end of our senior year," she tells him, lifting up her yearbook that she brought with for memories sake. "And, of course, she and Farkle got married that summer. They have a cute little house on a cute little street with a crucifix on the door- and I remember standing there when she bought it. I could see the green grass and picket fence and her parents home down the block." She gives a wistful look, shaking her head as she beams, "And so I knitted her a cute little sweater and thought, _I can do better than that._ "

He listens to her stories the entire drive there, only stopping for a quickie or two when he got too handsy for them to really focus on the road. Lying under him in the back of his car, pulled into an abandoned rest stop as he stares into her eyes and tells her that he loves her- she knows. She just _knows_ that this is better than that.

When they get to her parents, the thought comes into her mind when her mother waves from the door. She interlaces her fingers with Lucas's, squeezing his hand quickly before stuttering out that she wants him to move in with her. She wants a life with him, in the city, as an artist and a writer and two kids in love with no horizons. She wants more than the chains of a suburb, and so she pecks his lips and she asks again, telling him to think about it before climbing out of her seat to greet her family.

 ** _Nobody Needs To Know_**

It doesn't start off like this; his stripped body curled against a naked woman, one that isn't his wife and that he shouldn't be with. His left hand burns, the feeling of his ring cutting off enough circulation to make him want to amputate it instantly in the back of his mind.

He needs to go to Ohio. Maya's waiting for him, waiting to crucify him because he's going to have to break it to her that he won't be staying like planned. He knows it's her birthday, but fuck. He can't do it.

His eyes drift to Vanessa's bare back, the notches of her spine inviting him to crawl back towards her. He closes his eyes, inhaling her scent one more time before he kisses her shoulder. "We have to get going," he softly informs her, his hands sliding easily around her waist. "I need to go."

This isn't his fault. He's tried and he's tried to work it all out. She just won't _let_ him. Maya won't fucking let him in anymore, and what else is he supposed to do? Vanessa _talks_ to him and she _supports_ him and she _loves_ him without flaws.

And if he has to be in love with someone- since he _needs_ to be in love with someone- he knows he could be in love with someone like her.

 ** _Goodbye Until Tomorrow/I Could Never Rescue You_**

She bites her lip, giggling to shove him off of her body as he tries to steal more kisses. "No, no, no!" she chants giddily, pushing his shoulder lightly. "Don't kiss me goodbye again. Just leave this night clean and quiet."

 _Dear Maya,_

He shakes his head, moving to nip and her neck when she scrunches her face at him. "Lucas!" she blushes, pointing towards the gate at the end of alley.

 _I called Vanessa to help me pack my bags. I went downtown and closed the bank account. It's not about another shrink. It's not about another compromise._

"I want to remember tonight just like this," she informs him, one quick peck stolen before he finally gives up, his eyes as bright as the sun as he lowers on her steps.

 _I'm not the only one who's hurting here. I don't know what the hell is left to do._

He's perfect, or as close to perfect as she's ever known. She could feel it as soon as he kissed her the very first night, the magic they shared. She's going to love him. She wonders if she already does as he takes his time walking away from her.

 _You never knew how far the crack had opened. You never knew I had run out of rope._

He sheepishly waves at her, a blush on his cheeks that make her stomach flip.

 _I could never rescue you. No matter how I tried, all I could do was love you hard and let you go._

She'd always thought love wouldn't be a possibility for her. She figured after her dick of a college boyfriend, that'd be it.

 _You never noticed how the wind had changed._

She'd be a tortured artist for the rest of her days.

 _I didn't see a way we could both win._

But that's not the case because she has him, she's been _waiting_ for him. She's been waiting for the boy that she's going to love with everything that she has, and he's finally arrived in the form of sparkling eyes and a boyish grin. He's arrived in Lucas Friar, and she just knows that this is the start to everything.

 _Goodbye, Maya._

She only calls out one thing when he reaches her gate, her heart on her sleeve when she shouts it. "Goodbye until tomorrow."


End file.
